The Chance at Happiness
by Dee8
Summary: The unexpected return of a man she thought lost sends CJ into a tailspin. (complete)
1. Default Chapter

Author's note: This was written before season 5 began, so obviously Zoey's rescue is not what S5 would have us believe. This is what really happened, or should have, IMHO…

When her mind cleared she thought she had a nightmare, at first. Than she looked around, at the unfamiliar surroundings, and the man at the table, and her mouth went dry. This was real. It really happened…the club…The men outside the bathroom…Molly, whose lifeless eyes gazed in nightmarish slow-motion from the pavement…

She must have made a sound because the man looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He strode across the room to the couch on which Zoey was lying, and she shrunk back.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Zoey would have laughed out loud if she wasn't so terrified. "You kidnapped me, you killed one of my agents…"

"I didn't. I'm just the baby-sitter, to them. And I won't hurt you."

Zoey looked up at him. He was athletically built, bearded, and he had kind eyes. She couldn't say why, but she believed him.

"Who took me?"

"Qumari-funded terrorists."

"Why?"

"For a number of reasons, having to do with your father."

"No kidding. Who are you?"  
"I told you, I'm the baby-sitter. No offense meant."

"Well, offense taken. Who are you?"

He looked at her for a long time, as if debating with himself. Than he shook his head and said softly, "I'm not who they think I am. Let's leave it at that, for now."

"And you're not going to hurt me?"

"No ma'am."

"Well, you're polite. That's very un-terrorist like."

"Are you hungry?"

She thought again about the club, and Jean-Paul, drugging her. The man must have been a mind-reader, because he said, "When I promised not to hurt you that included spiking your food and drink. And speaking of which, I would re-evaluate my relationship with the French royalty, if I were you."

She actually laughed, albeit humorlessly. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out myself."

"Well, at least that good education wasn't completely wasted on you."

"See, and I was just starting to like you!"

He sighed. "Story of my life. Are you hungry?"

She shook her head.

He brought her a glass of water and a blanket. She fell asleep, and woke up crying. He sat down next to her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You're safe for now. Just relax."

"My parents…and Charlie…" She started crying again. He waited for her to calm down, and said softly, "I really wish there was a way to spare them…I really do. This will be over soon." As she looked up, a look of absolute terror on her face, he hastened to add, "Not the way you think. Didn't I promise not to hurt you?"

"But they'll come back for me, if you're just the baby-sitter," she whispered.

"Not if…let's take it one step at a time. You should try to rest some more. That was a powerful punch in your drink at the club."

"It wasn't X, was it?"

"No, though your…boyfriend…thought that's all it was. The dealer was paid quite a bit to give him something else."

"The dealer must be happy."

"The dealer is dead. Do you think they'll leave a trail this obvious?"

"How would I know what terrorists think like?"

"Good point."

"Do you know anything about my parents…or Charlie?"

"I know the President transferred power to the Speaker of the House. I'm sorry, that's all I know."

Zoey closed her eyes. Walken is Acting President? Could there be anyone her father despised more? Well, probably those who took her, she thought, and understood why her dad had to invoke the 25th.

"He transferred power voluntarily, right? It wasn't his MS or anything?"

"No ma'am. He is in complete control of his mind and body, as evidenced by the fact that he did transfer power to the Speaker."

"Don't call me ma'am."

He smiled a smile rife with sadness. "Yeah, I heard that line before."

He had some good books in the apartment and managed to put her at ease enough so that she tried to read. He got a phone-call at one point, and spoke animatedly in what sounded like Arabic for quite a while. He hung up and disappeared into the next room. She tried to tiptoe to the door to see what he was doing, but he came out with a cell phone to his ear, and gave her look that sent her back to the couch in a hurry. How he heard her was a mystery, but she wasn't going to try that again. She would have tried the door to the apartment, to see if she could just run out, but she figured he would have thought about it already, and besides, she probably WAS safer with him at the moment.

"Do you have a name?"

He was looking out the window, and turned around when she asked the question. "What? I mean…excuse me?"

"Do you have a name?"

"Doesn't everyone?"

She sighed. "Are you always this annoying?"

"Sometimes I'm worse."

"Wow."

"Yeah." He almost smiled.

"So what's you're name?"

There was a loud knock on the door and Zoey felt her mouth go dry again. Fear coursed through her as he walked to open the door. Stopping, he turned around and smiled softly. "Relax, these are the good guys. You're safe now." He opened the door to admit Ron Buterfield and that FBI agent that always flirted with the West Wing assistants. Agent Casper? Zoey couldn't remember his name, and was too stunned to pursue the thought. The hallway outside the apartment looked like a military zone, filled with Marines, police officers, and loads of black suits. No kidding -- she really was safe now.

"Miss Bartlet? Are you OK?" Ron was looking her over, relief written all over his face. He also looked ten years older. Zoey wondered what her parents looked like. She nodded and said, "This man…he was helping me. Don't hurt him!"

She turned around to her baby-sitter. "I still don't know your name…" she was saying, but the words stuck in her mouth. 

He was taking off his beard, and the black wig that covered his silver hair. He looked completely different now, and he smiled gently at Zoey, appreciating her attempt to protect him. "Special Agent Simon Donovan, US Secret Service."


	2. Chapter 2

"But you're dead!" Zoey blurted when he introduced himself. She vaguely remembered some late night talks with CJ, during the reelection campaign, and more than that, she remembered CJ's tears. He died in New York, in some botched attempt to thwart a robbery or something…

"Yeah, those reports were greatly exaggerated," he sighed, and looked so sad she wanted to hug him. ""I may very well be dead for real when my little brother and my former protectee find out…" he shook his head and smiled ruefully at Zoey. "Try to put in a good word for me with CJ, if you get the chance."

Zoey nodded. She went over to him and hugged him, than kissed his cheek quickly. "Thank you for keeping me safe," she whispered.

**********

Danny Concannon slammed his phone down and cursed for a full minute before getting himself under control. He had to find CJ before the briefing.

He was too late.

"CJ! CJ!" The familiar chorus erupted immediately after the jubilant Press secretary announced that Zoey Bartlet was safe, her kidnappers captured. The FBI and Secret Service were preparing statements, and until they gave her the OK, CJ said, she couldn't comment on anything that led to the First Daughter's rescue. 

"Questions! Mike?"

"CJ I have a source that says the rescue was made possible by a year-long undercover work of Secret Service agent Simon Donovan. Can you comment on that?"

Shit, thought Danny. OH, SHIT!

The silence that suddenly filled the room was almost deafening in quality. CJ's face had drained of color so fast Carol was amazed her boss remained standing. Most people in the room remembered the awful days after CJ's stalker was caught. Though she remained professional, her intense grief was so raw, so close to the surface, it was impossible to hide. Mike was new, and hasn't been there last year, or he would have known not to ambush CJ that way. Now, he was feeling alarmed at the looks he was getting from people. The press corps wasn't known for its kindness and generosity, but this was different. 

"I…I…can't comment…we'll have a statement…shortly." No one knew how she did it, but CJ stayed at the lectern, holding on to it as it were a lifeline. The reporters in the room, admiring her professionalism, stuck to trivia and let her get away after several short minutes. Minutes that felt like a lifetime to CJ.

Ron Buterfield was waiting in her office when she got there. So were Leo and Toby. She looked from one to the other and carefully closed the door. 

"CJ," Ron began slowly but she cut him off. 

"Is it true?"

Ron nodded.

"Does the Secret Service have ANOTHER Special Agent Simon Donovan?"

Ron shook his head. As if in a dream, CJ watched Toby move towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He guided her to the couch and sat her down.

 I was trying to move on with my life, CJ thought desperately. I was trying so hard – I even tried to convince myself that I could rekindle those old feelings for Danny. All so that I can prove to myself I can move on, I can still live when Simon…didn't. 

"He fought us so hard on that one," said Ron softly. "He wanted you to know, CJ. He wanted you to know…This wasn't up to him. It wasn't a choice, and what he did says nothing about the way he felt about you. He didn't realize we were going to take him that night."

"OK," CJ said quietly. "Can everyone leave, please?"

Before he left, Ron handed CJ a card. "Simon's contact information," he said. When the door closed, CJ demolished the card without ever looking at it, dropping the pieces in the trash can. Than she lay on the couch, pulled her afghan over her head, and cried and cried.

Danny knocked on her door several minutes later. 

"Go away," from her voice he knew she'd been crying. He opened the door and went in. He sat himself down on the edge of the couch.

CJ's tear-stricken face and red eyes peeked from under the afghan. "What do you want, Daniel? I said go away."

"I thought you might want to know…details. I have a source who told me about Simon's involvement right before the briefing. I tried to find you, but you were already…" he sighed. "I'd hoped I was the only one with the information, but I wouldn't be surprised if Mike and I have the same source. He's a greedy SOB."

"Danny, why should I care when I can just ask Ron?"

"I don't know. So you can compare stories?"

"You think that's funny?"

"No, I was serious. I don't know if Ron is allowed to tell you everything."

"It doesn't make a difference."

"OK, but, just so you know, if you ever want the details, you know where to find me."

"I'm going home," she told Toby, her tone warning him not to try and pull rank on her. She knew she was needed, now more than ever, with the President about to resume power and the Secret Service and FBI making their statements. Leaving now could get her fired. She really didn't care. If she'd ever sunk lower professionally, CJ couldn't remember it. 

"I'm going to see the babies. Come with me, I'll drop you home afterwards." The true measure of a friend, thought CJ, was how he reacted in a time of crisis. Toby was needed in the White House just as much as she was right now, but his first priority was his closest friend. Someday, she vowed silently, she will find a way to thank him for being there whenever she needed him.

They stood at the nursery window looking at the babies.

"I could look at them for hours," CJ smiled. "They're so sweet, Toby."

"Think Huck would look good with a beard?"

CJ burst out laughing, and playfully punched Toby in the arm. "How about you let him…oh, I don't know, reach puberty first?"

"Oh, if I must," Toby sighed, and they returned to gazing at his children.

In the car, on the way home, with the happy interlude over, CJ's thoughts swarmed around her core of pain.

"Toby?"

"Hmmm…?"

"Why is it that I'm so angry? I can't seem to get through the sense of betrayal, and I almost…hate him. Why am I feeling this way, when Ron told me Simon fought for the right to tell me, and wasn't allowed to? I mean, what's wrong with me? And I didn't even know him that long, not that it stopped me from…" she couldn't finish that thought.

He sighed, and said softly, "Maybe because it's easier to be angry…or sad…when you expect the world to keep hurting you. It's easier than admitting you love, or could love, someone whose job can result in a real loss to you – next time, he may not turn out to be alive." He was silent for a minute, than continued softly, "The trouble is, when you surround yourself with anger, or sadness, because you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop…you miss out on the chance at happiness. As fleeting as that happiness may be, I think it still beats living in anger, or pain. Sometimes, we don't learn this lesson until it's too late, and that chance is long gone."

CJ looked at him, and that particular set of his jaw she recognized too well. "What happened at the house, Toby?" She asked softly.

He shook his head. "We're not talking about me now. Except…I hope you don't repeat my mistakes. You…just listen to my experience, OK?"

She nodded, and they were silent for the rest of the ride. He dropped her off at home, and she went upstairs, deep in thought. She had a lot to consider.


	3. Chapter 3

It was inevitable, of course, that Simon would be invited to the Residence with alarming speed. There was to be a party five days after her rescue, but Zoey and the First Couple wanted some time alone with Simon first. Being Simon, he was acutely uncomfortable with the fuss. Worse, he felt responsible for Molly O'Connor's death, which he didn't foresee. Combine that with his dread of seeing CJ, or worse, not seeing her, and the result was a very agitated, hurt human being.

Though he has met with the President before, as part of the security briefings following the rescue, there was no chance for any personal exchange. In the days following the rescue, the President and the Senior Staff learned that Simon's year-long work, gaining the terrorists' trust and subtly guiding their actions, were largely responsible for keeping Zoey alive, and for her safe delivery to Simon. The First Family was going to make this night very personal.

Zoey flew out of her seat (Charlie's lap) when he entered, and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Embarrassed, he untangled himself from her arms, and gave her a half-smile. 

"You look much better than the last time I saw you, Ms. Bartlet. Perkier, too."

Zoey smiled. "You're not gonna be all formal with me now, are you?"

"Of course he's not," her father boomed as he came to shake Simon's hand. "That's an order, Simon."

"Yes Sir."

And they sat down to talk.

The Senior Staffers, minus CJ, arrived at 6:30. Simon found himself most comfortable with Will, who came with no "shooting in NY" baggage. 

He enjoyed seeing these people genuinely celebrating, their closeness evident in times of happiness just as it was in time of crisis. But he was the odd man out, in more ways than one, and there was really nothing to keep him there beyond required courtesy.

As he was looking around, hoping against hope CJ was just late, Simon felt a tap on his arm. Abbey Bartlet was by his side. "Give her time, Simon."

"Yes ma'am," he replied automatically, realizing he sounded like the idiot CJ fondly said he was. It happened outside the theater, in New York, a lifetime and one year ago. 

Abbey sighed and shook her, then almost dragged Simon across the hall, to an empty room where they could speak in private.

"Simon, what's the one thing you would guess really scares CJ Cregg?"

Frankly, Simon couldn't think of anything that would really scare CJ. "Snakes?" He suggested, because it was something to say rather than admit how much he really didn't know the woman he fell in love with in three short weeks.

Abbey chuckled. "Well, besides that."

Simon shook his head, feeling tired and depressed. The past five days have been brutal, personally, with the fallout of his "resurrection" continuing unabated. He sometimes wished he could keep his fictitious identity and let Simon Donovan stay dead…He shook his head and focused back on Abbey Bartlet.  

 "She's been hurt before, by men she thought she could love, men whom she loved…she's afraid of letting herself fall in love, or even come close. With you, she already felt she was treading on dangerous ground – she told me she thought she could fall in love with you, despite herself, and then she lost you. She needs time."

Simon nodded. He understood what Abbey was saying, but he couldn't help wondering if there was enough time in the universe to help CJ get close to him again.

After leaving the party, Simon went to CJ's office. He expected she'd gone home, and wanted to leave her a note. He was feeling the kind of pain he hadn't experienced since his wife's murder thirteen years ago. If he thought too much about the implications of his reactions, he was pretty sure he would go crazy. So he just concentrated on composing the note in his head as he made his way through the now-quiet West Wing. He sat at Carol's desk to write the note.

"Funny, you don't look like Carol."

Simon got up, heart beating wildly. Uncharacteristically, he could not think of a single snarky response. He simply whispered her name, trying to find his normal voice. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"You weren't at the…I was going to leave you a note. I figured you'd gone home."

She meant to. She couldn't bring herself to go to the party, but a part of her hoped he'd end up here, so she stayed and tried to work. 

 "I live here, you ought to know."

He nodded, reaching out with his hand to touch her face, but stopping short. His hand fell to his side, and he looked at her. Her face was closed, her eyes hooded. He kept his own face open – quite the role reversal for them. They stood in silence for a long time, until he spoke first.

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head. 

"CJ, I didn't know…and never dreamed it would happen the way it did…or take so long."

She nodded, and whispered, "I just…don't know what I'm supposed to feel…or do."

He sighed. "You're not supposed to do anything that…feels wrong. Or uncomfortable. And…if you tell me you'd be happier with me completely out of your life I'll go. I can't really say I'd blame you, either."

He looked down for a moment, than looked up at her again and smiled sadly. "I'm going to Chicago tomorrow, to untangle the mess there…If you want…can I call you? Just one call and we can take it from there. No promises, no pressure. Or you can take your time, I won't call, but I'll take you out for that drink I owe you when I get back. You call the shots right now."

"Right now?" she was amused.

"I'm not good at being contrite for lengthy periods."

"I see." Somewhere in her, laughter almost bubbled to the surface, which she took as a hopeful sign. "A phone call would be nice."

His face lit up and the smile she missed so much seemed to brighten her world. "Really?"

"Simon, to borrow a line, don't make me feel so benevolent." 

He chuckled. "I'd like to know where that line is borrowed from, but I'm not pushing my luck any further tonight. It may be a couple of days before I can call…things will be pretty tough. Can you wait?"

She gave him a look. He nodded. "Right. Thank you."


	4. Chapter 4

"CJ Cregg."

"Hey, it's Simon." He sounded terrible. She bit her lip.

"Where are you?"

"Chicago."  
"No, you idiot, where in Chicago are you now?"

He almost smiled. "You oughta do something about your use of vulgarities in place of endearments, you know."

"Or I could just hang up."

"My brother's place. Would you really hang up?"  
 "Maybe."

"OK. I guess contrition is still the order of the day?"

"This is your first phone call since we talked in person three days ago. You really think you're off the hook so fast?"

"Just trying my luck." He sighed again.

"How bad is it?" She asked, her voice softening.

"My best friend died this past year. I didn't find out until I got here. He's been battling cancer for several years now…And I wasn't there to say…Anyhow, this and other crap. Maybe I should have stayed dead. I'm not kidding."

"Simon….do you want me to fly out?" She couldn't believe she actually asked, and neither could he, but the hurt in his voice cut through her like a knife. And Toby's words came back to her. "When you surround yourself with anger…because you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop…you miss out on the chance at happiness." She was making Simon pay for so many things that weren't his fault…

"I…yes, I don't know if you could, but yes, if you wanted to, and you could get the time…"Simon forced himself under control. "Yes, I would really like that."

CJ smiled softly. "I'm pretty sure I would have no problems getting the time off. The President is willing, at this point, to give you the keys to his kingdom, so to speak. I think he'll give me some time off to go see you."

*****

They sat alone in Andrew Donovan's living room. Simon's brother and his family had cleared out for the day, to give CJ and Simon absolute privacy. Earlier that afternoon, CJ went with Simon to the cemetery where his best friend was buried. Simon left a note, and his favorite picture of Ben and himself. Now, he was in a contemplative mood.

"What are you thinking?" asked CJ curiously.

"That I need a break. That I've paid my dues and then some."

CJ looked at him blankly. "What dues? You never switched sides, did you?"  
He smiled. "You still remember that conversation?" He sighed and shook his head. " No, but I always believed the army, and law enforcement, were my way of giving back to society for what it has given me – freedom, education, you know, all the good stuff, which in my case always outweighed the bad. So it's like paying dues – you get the good and give back something to make the good even better. Or at least you try." He gave her a small depreciating grin. "I'm not trying to preach, you know. But it's really how I feel, though some people will think it's fake."

"I'm not one of those people," she whispered.

"No, you're just as idealistic as I am. It's one of the things I love about you. One of many," he added softly.

"Hold that thought for a moment, and tell me what you meant by needing a break."

"I'm taking a leave of absence, and after that…I might teach at the academy. You know, I can teach people how to shoot without falling down." He ducked the magazine that flew his way. "I want time, right now, to build a relationship with a woman I thought I'd never find." He looked up at her. "If you won't have to worry about my job, or the risks I take…Would you think about giving us a second chance?"

"Simon," she took a deep breath, "You're not leaving because you think that's what I'd want, right? Because I came here…to be with you…you needed me, and I needed you as well. There are no strings attached. You'd have a second chance, WE would have one, whether or not you stayed an active agent. A chance at happiness is worth all this," she added, thinking of Toby again. He was so right, and Simon was so different from anyone else she knew. She was willing to risk more of herself for him than she ever thought possible. Then a thought occurred to her. "You wouldn't ask me to change my job, my career goals, would you?" 

"You know I wouldn't. I admire who you are professionally and it comes from who you are as a person, It's the whole package that I love. No, I wouldn't want you to change." She smiled and he continued. "I'm forty-seven years old, and last year my life went from absolute happiness to…what it's been this past year in a matter of hours. I love my job, I love doing protective details, but I want a break. I'm burnt out, at the moment."  
"You may feel different after your leave."  
"Yeah, Ron's hoping so."

"Whatever you decide, it won't affect our relationship. It will stand or fall on its own."

"I have every intention of making it stand, Ms. Cregg. I've had a year to realize just how important you became to me in the short time we had together. I don't intend to let this relationship fall apart, now that we can build it up."

It really does beat living in anger, she thought, as she smiled at him and answered, "I second that, Special Agent Sunshine."


End file.
